Stepping closer, a full head taller than Theodoric, he glowered down on him then whispered in a deep, rough voice, "Piss on you, Frank."
Chapter 46
Runa's head throbbed as she sat on a blanket stretched over the grass inside her tent. Yellow light glowed along the billowing panels, a circle of brilliant white above her head where the sun shined through the clouds. Aren assisted Ulfrik with the baldric of his sword, fastening it behind him as Ulfrik pulled his chain coat straight. His helmet had tumbled out of a sack and the empty eye guards seemed to stare up from the grass at Runa. She shuddered, not wanting to think of severed heads. He reached down and placed it on Aren's head while he fussed with his final preparations.
Unlike her other sons, Aren did not laugh or appreciate his father's humor. The levity was out of place, and strange for Ulfrik at such a crucial time. He had come back from the scene of Gunnar's defeat a different man, and it frightened her. Life was adrift in a raging sea and she needed him to be constant, not to change. Not even if it was good change. She needed one thing to stay the same, one thing she could trust and predict. Her heart had been through too much; fear and anger and worry had ravaged her. A day without shock or surprise would be a prize beyond measure.
The helmet hung lopsided on Aren's head, and he pulled it off with difficulty to hand it up to his father. He took it under his arm, shouldered a bag of gold he would present to Hrolf, and let out a long sigh.
"A week is more than enough," he said again. He had said it so often since the parley that Runa now realized a week was barely sufficient. He fit his helmet over his head and mumbled. "As long as everything goes right, it will be enough."
Runa laughed, choked it back when he frowned at her. Of course nothing would go right. Here was another plan of her husband's, fraught with danger and hinged upon circumstances he could not control, but certain to be song-worthy if victorious. At least this much had not changed in him. He could always be counted upon to take the most dangerous road.
"Snorri will advise you and Konal will remain behind as well. Don't let him strain his wounds."
"He'll be waiting like the rest of us. No strain in that."
"No," Ulfrik said, dropping the bag. "Remember what we discussed. Ensure the men are vigilant; that they practice and demonstrate their strength for the Franks. Do everything short of drawing them into a fight. Snorri will know what to do."
"What if Hrolf refuses to come to your aid?" She stood now, her eyes fixed on his. He put up a hand to protest, caught himself, and took her hand instead. His skin was warm and rough as he folded both hands over it.
"He will come. A lord who would not help his bondsman in such a time is no lord at all. Hrolf is a great man, or I would not serve him."
"And what if he cannot help? Then what will happen?"
They stared at each other, and he grinned as if he knew something she did not. His confidence usually was not misplaced, but Runa believed recently the gods took less interest in Ulfrik's success. He squeezed her hand.
"I will return within the week, do not fear. When I do, Clovis and Theodoric will grab the trap I set with both hands, but not before returning our children."
He drew her close, kissed her head, and stepped back. His back was straight and his step filled with energy. He believed in victory; it showed in his every motion. Such confidence had won him many battles, so why would this be any different?
"This is for our sons," she said, her voice small. She reviled its timidity, and her doubt seemed foolish in the light of Ulfrik's certainty.
"Always for our sons," he agreed. "I know what you are thinking, that this plan was made for glory more than anything else. There is that, but it is the surest way to trap our foes while extracting our sons from danger. I believe it, and you must as well." He smiled and added, "For our sons."
He kissed her again, ruffled Aren's hair, and stepped outside the tent where Einar waited with a small group of bodyguards and horses. They were all kitted for war in mail and fresh-painted shields rimmed with iron. They each carried two spears and two swords, and their fierce expressions made Runa wonder if the ten of them planned to storm Clovis's fortress on their own. Runa's hand felt for the hilt of her own long knife hidden beneath her skirts, finding the smooth pommel and touching it like a talisman against evil.
Snorri nodded at her, as if to tell her all would be well. She smiled and watched Ulfrik set out with his men. He departed without ceremony, as one man leading a group on a routine patrol. She watched him cut across the camp and then through the fields, until finally a dip in the land swallowed them from view. Her hand continued to run over the pommel of her hidden weapon, and she whispered to herself as she returned to the tent, "Gods grant you speed and victory, husband. Bring our children home."
Chapter 47
By midmorning of the following day, Ulfrik and his band were intercepted by Hrolf's scouts and led to his hall. Unlike other visits to Hrolf in his seat of power, he was now keenly aware of the openness of it. No walls encircled his long houses or mead hall. Workers and children crisscrossed the lanes and tracks, oblivious to danger. A lone sheep sauntered across their path. Guards and hirdmen clustered in doorways or at the corners of houses, rolling dice and laughing. No cares here. No worried silence and no suspicious glances. Pleasant curls of smoke lifted over the gentle hum of life in this idyllic community.
Ulfrik frowned, glancing at Einar who walked at his side. If he had noticed the same carelessness, he gave no sign of it.
"Such a happy place," Ulfrik said. "Here you could forget the Franks are ever ready to ram a spear through a man's gut and burn his home to ash."
Their escorts smiled nervously, but Einar nodded. "We've lived too long on the border. I don't even remember a life like this."
They wended along a rutted path up the hill to where Hrolf had built his mead hall. Only here did a sense of vigilance form about its gray, rain-stained walls. Guards at the doors were stern, spears held straight and shields close to their bodies. The massive structure could hold more than hundred men. The double doors were carved with coiling serpents, fighting warriors of legend, though little else either on the exterior or interior bore any decoration. Hrolf favored size over beauty, strength over form. Everything about his hall, from the vaulting roof to its wide floors and massive tables, spoke to that taste.
They surrendered their weapons at the doors and were allowed inside. For a moment, Ulfrik's eyes saw only a burnt orange haze until they adjusted to the low light from lamps and the open smoke hole. One of the scouts went before them, announcing their arrival to the few who lingered in the hall.
"I expected you sooner." The voice boomed across the hall, but rather than Hrolf's it was the rough tones of Gunther One-Eye. He sat at the high table, not in Hrolf's chair but in the seat beside it.
"And I did not expect to return until spring." Ulfrik closed the distance to Gunther, and his old friend rose to greet him. Einar and the others of his group loosely fell in behind. The two men clasped arms and slapped each other's backs. Despite his age, Gunther's grip was firm and warm, and while his single eye was nestled behind the crevasses of age, it twinkled with intelligence and curiosity.
"The Franks are troubling you." Gunther did not ask Ulfrik, but told him. Ulfrik bowed his head in acknowledgment and Gunther grunted. "You've traveled in haste and with a heavy burden, but still let it not be said you could find no comfort in the Strider's hall. All of you, sit where you will and enjoy ale and food with me."
Gunther rounded his table and joined with Ulfrik and his men. From the dark corners of the hall, slave girls jumped to Gunther's commands, gathering horns and mugs for drink.
"We found the cairn and battlefield," Gunther explained as he settled onto the bench beside Ulfrik. The other men in the hall drew closer to listen, so that despite the vastness of the hall everyone clumped at tables in the center. "Followed the tracks and saw the hoof prints. Only the Franks are fool enough to ride horses to battle."<
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"Yet you sent no one to me? You must've realized the size of the Frankish force." Ulfrik immediately regretted the ungrateful tone of his question, and calmed himself. "Combined with Clovis, they are formidable enemies."
Gunther winced, flashing his yellow teeth. "If you needed help, you would've sent for it. Would I shame you by sending aid without your asking for it?"
The arrival of drinks saved the conversation from its unpleasant turn. Accepting a horn brimming with foamy ale, he raised it to Gunther. "Thank you for your hospitality, my friend. All glory to your name."
They drank as one and emptied their mugs for more. Gunther gave a gusty laugh as he dropped his horn on the table. "The finest anywhere. Makes what we brewed in the north taste like goat piss. Except that mead you used to brew. That was a rare treasure."
Cheese and dried fish were served to them next, and conversation turned to lighter topics. Pressing his needs so early was a crude and foolish move, and he had to play a better guest. He had time yet to lay plans and make requests. So he enjoyed the salty fish and bitter ale, kept his conversation to surface detail of recent news, and let the meeting flow naturally to his story.
At last he had detailed all of Throst's treachery, the capture of his sons, and the arrival of Theodoric. Attention remained fixed on him, and the flow of food and ale ceased as men forgot themselves. Gunther frowned angrily throughout, and at each mention of Clovis or Throst his fist clenched. When it was finished, he sat back and refreshed his mouth with the last drink from his horn.
"It is more dire than I had even considered," Gunther said at last. "King Odo has involved himself, even if only indirectly. We thought he had stopped looking west."
"No king stops looking for land, especially if he believes it to be his by right," Ulfrik said. "You hardly come to the border anymore, but if you did you would see the work I do in keeping the Franks off your backs. They pick at every loose thread, hoping to unravel the whole cloth. They think they may have found it this time. And maybe they have. Both of my sons are their hostages."
The gloomy silence prevailed as men looked into their mugs and Gunther shook his head. "What have they asked for ransom?"
"My fortune and my land, all that I possess."
Gunther raised his brow, but said nothing. Einar finally lost patience and asked the questions on everyone's mind.
"Will we be able to speak to Jarl Hrolf? Clovis has only given us seven days and two are spent already."
"He is gone to England for the winter, took three hundred men, all his family, and my son. Only my own men and a small number of Hrolf's remain behind. We cannot abandon our position."
He turned saddened eyes to Ulfrik, and placed a heavy hand on his forearm. Ulfrik pulled it back.
"You have not even heard my request, and you are already telling me what you cannot do." His heart raced and his breath grew hot in anger, yet he paused long enough to gird his emotion. "Will you at least hear me?"
Gunther closed his eye and nodded, twisting on the bench to face Ulfrik. "I merely wanted you to know the situation here. Please, speak to me as Hrolf's second and I will grant all that is within my power. You know I want to aid you."
The tone of his voice and his imploring eyes expressed more to Ulfrik than any speech. Without a doubt, he had sworn publicly to hold and defend Hrolf's land in his absence. Gunther was a shrewd man, and if he suspected Ulfrik had a plan to defeat the Franks, particularly King Odo's men, then he would want to share in that glory. He needed Ulfrik to provide a way to maintain his oath and still be able to assist. Ulfrik's beating heart calmed, and he gave the faintest smile as he rose to address Gunther. He did not need to persuade his old friend, only the men around him.
"Thank you for the opportunity. Hear what I ask, and judge whether it is within your power to help me. I think you will find aiding me is a better defense of your homes than staying put." Gunther smiled, and gestured for Ulfrik to continue. He clasped his arm behind his back and began to pace. "The Franks believe they have me in a perfect trap, that I would not sacrifice my own to defy them. They also know without help, I do not have enough men to face down Clovis and Theodoric."
"They do not know you are here?" Gunther asked.
"They believe I am here for a loan from Hrolf, so that I may pay the silver demanded of me. Were I to return with men at my back, my sons and all the others would die before we could reach Clovis's walls."
"So are you truly here for silver?" Gunther's frown filled with shadow from the light above. Some men looked at each other in disappointment or disgust. One even left the table.
"Hardly, in fact, I have prepared a gift of gold to you so no one may claim I am a poor guest." He paused and glared at those who frowned at him. "I am here for men. I am here to bring the fury of the north onto these warm-weather worms. I am here because not only will my sons and warriors be saved, but Clovis will be destroyed in one blow. With the fighting strength of your hall to help, the largest Frankish stronghold between us and Paris will be ripped open. Land and slaves will raise our treasure piles and the glory of our deed will be sung in every hall until Ragnarok."
He let his words echo in the hall, and even Einar, who had discussed the plan until exhausted, leaned forward to hear more. Gunther's eye shined with mischief, but he still had a role to play. "And this will be done without Clovis's executing your hostages?"
"He will release them before he ever sees your blades."
A murmur rippled through the hall and Gunther smiled. "Now that's a plan worth hearing. Go on."
"I will grant him all he asks. The silver is his to take, and I will give it down to my last bit of treasure. And my hall and fortress shall be his as well. My people will be waiting outside its walls, prepared to leave and never return." Ulfrik paused, relishing the drama and the wide eyes waiting for his reveal. He licked his lips before continuing.
"But inside my fortress, stuffed into every building and room, are hidden the fighting men of Hrolf the Strider and Gunther One-Eye. When Ravndal's gates close behind Clovis, the killing will begin. The gates will reopen and my men and yours will rend the Frankish army like old sailcloth. Theodoric's horsemen will be useful only as targets for your bowmen. His footmen will die in confusion. Then, when they are shattered, we turn to Clovis's home and demolish it."
The gathered men roared in delight, banging the tables and stomping the ground. Ulfrik swaggered about the table, smiling at Einar and Gunther as he gathered in the praise for his plan. Gunther, however, still had his oath and he began shouting for his men to quiet. At last, he restored order then folded his arms as he challenged Ulfrik.
"A cunning plan, certainly worthy of a song, but I fear you have wasted time coming here. My oath to Hrolf has bound me to the defense of his hall and lands, and to abandon it is to leave it open for attack."
The eager crowd was chastened at Gunther's reminder and the excited hum stilled. Ulfrik expected this, and had already determined a counter. "And to let me crumble is to encourage an attack on this very hall. I have gambled all on coming here, and there is no time left. To return now without your aid is to see my sons killed and my hall destroyed. Do not fear I will betray my own oath. I will die before a Frankish army slips across my borders. But they will. Then who will you summon to your aid? You must send messengers now; call back all you can to the defense of these lands. In one week I will be dead and my lands in the hands of the Franks.
"Unless you have the wisdom to understand Hrolf's true command. For I doubt he ever intended to allow the borders to crumble while you sit idle. In all our years, he has always sent aid to the borders and that is why your homes are not surrounded by walls and your people prosper. No Frank gets this far because you fight them farther afield. What has changed now?"
Many grumbled agreement, and Ulfrik was confident he had won the day. Gunther smiled, but then his expression grew serious.
"All very strong arguments. I must consult with the rest of my felag, and hear their though
ts. I will have your answer tomorrow."
"Tomorrow is too late," Ulfrik said, genuine surprise reaching into his voice. He had expected a quicker agreement from Gunther. "Gathering your men and moving them unseen into Ravndal will take time. Just the travel alone ..."
"Tomorrow morning," Gunther said with finality. "I am moved by your need, but you must understand mine. Hrolf left no room to misunderstand his intent. Your plan is a great temptation, but it cannot be undertaken lightly. Rest today, feast tonight, speak no more of this to me. You will have your answer in the morning, and if I may aid you then I will put all speed to that task."
A hush overtook all the men, and Gunther excused himself with no further ceremony. Ulfrik stared at Einar, who returned a harsh stare of his own. He thought of Runa's fears, then slowly sat on a bench and rubbed his mouth. He had no choice but to wait until tomorrow. When the sun rose he would be at Gunther's bedside to hear the decision.
Chapter 48
Runa waited, surrounded by hirdmen, Snorri at her side and Konal using a spear to support himself. Both could no longer restrain her, and had resigned themselves to following her. The hirdmen accompanying them were hard-bitten warriors of long service. She knew them all by name, as well as their wives or lovers and their children as well. They had insisted on escorting her out to the field where Clovis had met with Ulfrik. Ensconced in such care and strength, she should not fear, yet her hands were ice and her heart fluttered.
The sixth day was ending without word from Ulfrik. She had counted the time: two days to Hrolf, two days to return, and the rest of the time to prepare his trap. Even if he returned this night, would any time remain for his plan? If not, what happened to her children? Whether Ravndal stood or fell, or whether she surrendered every scrap of treasure to Clovis mattered not at all. Land and gold could be won again, but her family could never be replaced.
Shield of Lies Page 24
